The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-01-01
The first two DAYS all went we'll But


on the morning of the third one of the
twins was taken suddenly i'll with the
Group. She had brought him safely
through several attacks, but this was
more than usually severe, and before the
short winter day had closed little "Di."
slept the last sleep. No time for that
mother to weep. The shadows we're fall
ing and the outdoor work, neglected all
day, must be done. 1t was, and as faith
fully as though her darling were yet
Growing in his sisters arms. Then, when
the others were asleep, she shrouded her
dead and placed it in the cradle, which
was only log deftly followed out by the
fathers tools, but which she had made a
snow white, coy nest for each baby as it
came.
She did not walk the floor and wiring
her hands; she did not spend the night in
watching. Everything depended on her
health and strength, and she must not
waste either. She drew the cradle close
to the bedside, and undressed as usual
and lay down and slept = after awhile;
after reviewing that sweet, short life; after
fancying what and where it was now.
Early the next day she perceived signs
OF severe storm coming on, and she pre-
pared for it, as we'll as she could. She
dragged in seven of the huge back logs;
she brought in and chopped wood enough
for week; she filed her wash tubs from
the spring; she threw down plenty of fod-
der for the sheep in the fold, and for the
calves in the shed yard; and she brought
hay and corn into the little shed that
served for summer kitchen and had been
built on to the north side of the cabin.
The fowls she put into coops and placed
in rows along the sides of the one room,
which served as parlor, kitchen and all
And when night came on and the snow
flakes fell in binding thickness. she
brought the pigs-they were young ones,
the large, fat ones all having been trans
formed into pork and lard-she brought
the half dozen into the cabin and carried
them into the low garrett, where they
Struggled down into the warm nest she
made for them and needed nothing. The
two milch COWS she fastened inside the
summer kitchen, for she knew it might
be hours and hours before she could cross
to the barnyard. She had known those
snow storms before, but until now she
had never been obliged to face one alone.
The night was wild one, and when
morning came by the clock it did not
come with light for the drifts had cover
ed both windows, and when she unbarred
the doors, she was met by solid wall Of
snow. BY the light of the fire she kept
busy all day, now feeding her fowls and
pigs, now cooking for the children, now
knitting and now spinning, and part of
the time greatly exciting the curiosity of
the children by planning some pine boards,
which she brought from the garrett, and
shaping them very curiously, it seemed
to them. She could use the tools almost
as well as her husband, and now moth
er's love directed her hands. And all the
while, in one corner of the room, stood
the log cradle with the dead baby.
That night when the children slept, she
put those pieces of board together, and
they took the shape of little coffin.
When it was finished, she lined it with
clean wool and white linen OF her own
bridal spinning and weaving, and then
with many fond kiss, little "Di' was
placed in the narrow bed. Closing it, she
lifted the trap door that led to the dark
hole known as the cellar, and went down
the ladder with the light burden and left
it there in shallow grave to wait till the
father should come home. Carefully did
she cover it, tearfully did she kneel by it,
and then she went away softly.
"Five days" she said next morning to
her little Matty, "five days; he will be
in Albany now l reckon, for the roads
are not such as when he went the first
time. Two days he must stay. Five
more to get home. We will be patient;
but l wish the storm was over" for still
was the cabin dark, save for the freight,
and still did the snow come down and
the wind blew in wild, furious gusts.
That night the younger twin sickened
lie was harder than his brother had
been and fought the disease longer; yet
twenty-four hours told the story for him;
and on the evening of the seventh day of
her loneliness, she had another dead
baby in the cabin. The next day the
children watched her again as she planed
and shaped some pine boards, her hands
not so steady as before, for the trials
were wearing on her. Yet, nothing was
neglected. The lives OF Matty and Ben
depended on her; and also the lives of all
those dumb creatures she bad sheltered
under the home-roof.
That night there was second lonely
funeral there, and a second coffin placed
in the dark vault under the trap door. :.
Another day passed, and then thewater
being all used, she unbarred the door to
the shed or summer kitchen, and filed
her pots and kettles with snow and hung
them on the great crane and thus secur-
ed drink for the animals and what water
she needed for household purposes. Anx-
ious about the calves and sheep, she, with
hard work, tunneled her way through the